


Led Astray

by allthespiceyoullwant



Series: The Lord Protector's Daughter [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthespiceyoullwant/pseuds/allthespiceyoullwant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birthday fic for chaosandfoes. Happy birthday, love! ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	Led Astray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosandfoes (echos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echos/gifts).



It had been a fortnight since Sansa had stolen into Petyr's bed for the first time, and she still sometimes couldn't believe everything that had happened since then. Every day she played her role as Alayne, and she played it well. She was Petyr's daughter with every fiber of her being. Her father was as loving and caring as any father could be. They often strolled though the gardens together, father and daughter, and he told her about everything that was happening in the Vale and beyond. Alayne learned so much from these conversations. She knew Petyr wanted it that way.

The last time anyone had called her _Littlefinger's bastard_ felt long gone. Soon they called her Lady Stone, and whispered _Lady of the Eyrie_ on the quiet. It was an honor bestowed upon few to be allowed to call her Alayne.

But none of these names mattered to the girl. The name she loved most was only whispered at night, behind closed doors, by a single man.

Sansa.

It still send a shiver down her spine every time Petyr called her by her name, and every time he moaned it softly filled her with delight. Sansa had never thought her own name would inflame her so much, but then again, she had never thought she would ever burn for a man the way she burned for her father. She had to smile. There were so many things she had never thought of, so many things she had never even heard of. Petyr tutored her in all of them. And she was a most devoted student.

Now he was finished elaborating his plan for the next year. He put down the quill and burned the parchments where he had made notes. “Never let anyone know what you are up to”, he said with a smile. “Even people who you consider your allies.”

Sansa looked at him and fluttered her eyelashes. “But you let me in on your plans”, she noted teasingly.

“You're more than an ally, sweetling”, explained Petyr softly and pulled her on his lap. He was still sitting at his desk. “You are my daughter. And I am proud of you.”

Sansa felt his breath on her lips, hot and inviting. She could not wait to feel the touch of his kiss, but she knew she had to be patient. Petyr always set the pace during their time alone. But she was allowed to tease him. So she whispered, “Thank you, father.”

Petyr smiled. “Thank me with a kiss, sweet daughter.”

Gods be good, he had never given in so quickly. Sansa considered this a personal achievement. She was growing stronger under Petyr's counsel than she ever thought she could be. She leaned in and softly put her lips on his. His tongue darted forward instantly and found hers. Sansa let out a satisfied moan. She would never get enough of his sweet taste of mint.

After a short time Petyr broke off the kiss and looked at her. His eyes, once so cool and mysterious, had long started burning with hunger whenever they were alone. It made Sansa wet every time he looked at her like this... She was no better than a common wench. That thought made her even wetter. Gods, what had Petyr done to her? Whatever it was, Sansa loved it. But she bit her lower lip and tried her best to look demure. She wouldn't let Petyr revel in his victory just yet.

His hands avidly shoved aside the layers of fabric of her dress. Sansa remembered a time not too long ago when he had carefully removed every single lace, diligently making sure he would not tear the fabric. But his patience was shorter these days. It did not matter. The dresses he had torn could be sewn back together. Sansa was good at needlework. She had had a lot of practice lately.

His fingers found her smallclothes and grabbed them. Sansa stood up so he could pull them off, and he did it so greedily that his nails left pink marks on the tender skin on her thighs. She stepped out of her smallclothes and took a step to his bed, but Petyr took her hand and held her. “What are you doing, sweetling?”

Sansa didn't know what to say. He was so hungry for her, she could see that in his eyes. Why did he want to play a game now? Why did he want to torment her like this?

Petyr stood up now, too, and pulled her into his arms. “Sansa, my sweet. Don't look so confused. Don't you trust me?”

Sansa was already beginning to lose her senses. Petyr only asked her if she trusted him when he had something especially sinful on his mind. Sansa began to tremble. “Yes, father”, was all she could croak.

“Then be a good daughter and don't question me, sweetling”, said Petyr softly. Sansa only nodded eagerly.

Before she realized what was happening, Petyr lifted her up and sat her on his desk. Sansa's eyes widened in surprise. She had never sat on his desk before... And she had the distinct feeling that sitting was not the only thing she would be doing on his desk tonight.

Petyr grabbed her around her waist and pulled her closer so she was sitting right on the edge. “Open your legs, sweetling.”

Sansa obeyed. His hand was on her in an instant. His fingers skilfully explored her, slid in and out of her like they had never done anything else. When he began rubbing her clit, Sansa leaned back and closed her eyes. She let out a deep moan.

Petyr's fingers trailed over her thighs now, and Sansa could feel them leave traces of her own juice on her skin. “You are so wet, sweetling”, he observed with a smirk. “I wonder, are you always so wet?” His fingers slammed into her, hard and urgently.

“No”, moaned Sansa. “Only for you, father...” Her words were drowned by the muffled scream of pain and pleasure as Petyr's fingers entered her again and again, hard and mercilessly.

“I should hope so”, replied Petyr calmly. “Now let me claim my prize.”

His fingers left her and were replaced by his cock. Sansa could feel it pressing against her lips, but he did not enter her. He never entered her before she had not begged for it. It drove Sansa mad.

“Please, father”, she whispered. Her voice was coarse.

Petyr smirked. Sansa was so wet that she felt her juice dripping out of her now. She simply felt so _good_ here. The desk was hard and not near as comfortable as the bed, but she would not want to trade places for the world. She was leaning on her elbows, her legs spread wide open for her father. And Petyr was standing before her, marveling at the woman she had become. The woman he had brought into being. “What do you want, sweet daughter? You know I will give you the world if you ask it of me”, he teased her.

Sansa groaned in frustration. “I want you...”

“But you already have me, sweetling. Don't you know that?” Petyr began slowly rubbing his cock against her, entering her less than an inch, pulling out again.

“I want you to fuck me”, pleaded Sansa. There had been a time when she would have never used that word, let alone in this context... But that time was long gone.

Petyr smirked again, as if he could scarcely believe the sweet, innocent maid he had smuggled from King's Landing was now lying before him, impure and sinful and begging to feel him inside her.

Then he grabbed Sansa's waist and slammed into her with full force.

Sansa whimpered. The pain was sharp and quick and gone in a heartbeat. And it was so good. “Yes...”, she urged him on, and Petyr grit his teeth and picked up the pace.

Sansa let her head roll back on the desk. She knocked over a wine glass, but it was empty and simply rolled over the desk until it fell on the floor. Sansa hardly noticed it. All she noticed was Petyr, the way he groaned with every thrust, how she only felt complete with him inside her.

Petyr's hands moved over her body. He buried his left hand in her hair and grabbed a handful of it. Sansa arched her back and let out a muffled scream when she felt the sudden tug. How could it possibly feel so good to have her hair pulled? She could feel waves of heat beginning to wash over her with every thrust now.

Petyr's right hand cupped her breast and clung to it as if it was all that was left in the world. His fingers twirled around her nipple for a while. Then Petyr scratched over her breast so hard that his nails left red trails. It was enough to take Sansa closer to the edge. She moaned again. “Father...”

“Pray all you want, sweetling”, groaned Petyr between two thrusts. “I won't be gentler.”

“Don't be”, urged Sansa. “Please...” The heat began to radiate through her entire body.

Petyr smirked. “You like it rough, don't you? It's a good thing you are a bastard, then. Highborn ladies could never behave so indecently.”

Sansa knew these were only empty words. She was the Lady of Winterfell. No one could take that away from her, not even Petyr.

“I _am_ a highborn lady”, she moaned teasingly. “You know I am...” The heat coursing through her veins was almost unbearable now.

Petyr thrust into her again and chuckled. “Yes, you are. Should I leave you alone, then? I don't want to lead the Lady of Winterfell astray.”

Sansa couldn't hold the sensations back any longer. The fire that had been building inside her grew more than she could endure. She let the heat wash over her, consume her, free her, screaming as it took hold of everything she was. “You have already led me astray, father”, Sansa cried out.

Petyr smiled proudly and continued to fuck her, even harder and faster now. His groans became louder and more urgent. Sansa knew he was close. She eagerly arched her back, bringing herself closer to him so she could feel him even deeper insider her. And he filled her. Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him on. He leaned over, embracing her body and steadying her as he thrust into her one last time. After that he just held her close, and Sansa felt him clench as he spilled himself deep within her. Feeling his muscles tense and release under her hands was enough to bring Sansa over the edge again. This time, she moaned his name as she came undone.

After a while, Petyr smiled. “Oh, how I have led you astray, my sweet daughter.” He kissed her softly. “But I have enjoyed every second of it.”


End file.
